Time in Turn May Sweeten Love
by ArkTaisch
Summary: "The grave's a fine and private place, / But none, I think, do there embrace." Very poetic, but in fairy tale land, dead isn't dead, and love is eternal until it isn't. Death has parted Rumple from Belle, and Cora meets him in hell. (More or less canon up to 6.05, then it diverges.)
1. A Match Made in Hell

**Author's notes:** Well, if you buy Cora's redemption in season 5, why not get the package deal and ship Rumple with her, too? I expect it would be an on-again, off-again thing, sprinkled with betrayals and murder attempts, but at least they wouldn't be bored. She's a better option IMO than canon!Belle at this point.

The title is from Annie Finch's poem "Coy Mistress", which was a response to the poem quoted in the summary, "To His Coy Mistress" by Andrew Marvell.

* * *

The Shears of Fate can sever any destiny, even the Dark One's.

His fingers loosen and the golden blades fall. He hears them clattering to the ground. At least he was able to do what he needed to do — spin death into life like straw into gold — before he loses his grip at last.

It's all right, Rumplestiltskin tells himself. He's been living on borrowed time since his son died.

He hopes they'll be more careful with powerful magical artifacts after this. He won't be there to warn them anymore. Maybe... Belle. He strains to find her one last time before he is gone. He has severed his fate from hers. Only sentiment binds them now.

 _Good-bye, Belle. You will always have a place in my heart._ He hopes she can hear his words, but he can't know for certain. The only certainty now is his death.

He finds himself in hell again, for the third time.

The first time, he had _burned_. The fires of hell are fed by guilt and regret. No one hated him more than himself. Stripped of self-deceptions and self-justifications by the clarity of death, he had been left a flayed husk writhing in the ashes of damnation.

This time it's different. He's cut himself free of all that. He's done what he's done; self-loathing is pointless. The voices of those he's harmed still cry out to him, but from a distance. As for those who harmed him, he's cut himself free of that, too. He no longer has any need of love or hate. He owes no more debts to anyone, living or dead.

It doesn't take long to find the pit, the fiery pit with the bridge that may or may not cross to the other side. Either way, it brings an end. Whether to a better place, or a worse one, he can be at peace. It's over. There's nothing to tie him to the world again. Nothing left to fear.

For a long time, he stands at the edge, contemplating that final leap of faith. He takes a step. Another. Then—

"Leaving us already?" A woman's voice tugs him back from the brink.

"Cora." He turns to greet her. "I thought you had moved on."

"I did, but I came back." She stands in the shadows, looking regal even in the drab pantsuit she wears in the fashion of the Land Without Magic.

"Why?"

"With Hades gone, this limbo was even more of a mess than ever." She closes the distance between them, a fond smirk on her face. Her tone holds no rancor towards him. "Someday my daughters will come here, and I don't want their souls to suffer if I can help them."

"Your maternal instincts do you credit," he says, but he has his doubts. "Are you sure it wasn't the power vacuum? After all, why stop at being a queen when you can be a god?"

Cora laughs. "Rumple, my dear, you know me too well. But you. I didn't expect to see you here for centuries yet. What lucky fool has their name on the Dark One dagger now?"

Rumplestiltskin draws the dagger from inside his jacket and shows it to Cora, his name inscribed in silvery-white letters on a black blade.

"It looks different now," she notes. She eyes his shorn hair. "As do you."

"It is different." He considers, then adds, "As am I."

"How is this possible?"

"I died once before." Perhaps it is not wise to confide in Cora; he knows she will only use the knowledge against him, but who else has ever understood him so well? "Then I was reborn out of elemental darkness." Elemental darkness — it sounds better than "black goo." Even dead, he has an image to maintain.

"Intriguing." How attentively she listens — Cora was always the best of his students.

"Later, my heart was drained of magic, but that was only a temporary state of affairs. I drank all of the darkness back in, and reforged this blade." He hides it away again, then concludes, "There is no Dark One anymore, there is only Rumplestiltskin."

"But you're here now. You must have died again. How?"

"Emma Swan," he tells her. "The savior. Like all saviors, she faced a prophecy of her own demise."

"I thought you were the one with the prophecy? A boy would be your undoing?"

"Did you read that in a book?" The Author's books are another manifestation of the powers of the Fates. Having snipped through his own destiny, Rumplestiltskin hopes that from now on, his story will not appear in those pages.

"Your grandson left it behind in the Underworld."

"Yes, well. I _was_ undone. Death counts as 'undoing'."

"What of the savior?"

"The pirate tried to use the golden shears of fate to save Emma from her doom, but forgot to read the operating instructions." Typical of the Storybrooke heroes, he thinks, lurching from one emergency to another with no comprehension of the consequences of their own actions. "He severed her from herself, which only resulted in the two halves of herself killing each other."

"And where were my daughters in all this?"

"Distracted. They had too many other enemies on their plate." He is surprised that Cora hasn't been spying on them to know this already. Her takeover of the underworld must be keeping her too busy.

"And you?"

"I spliced Miss Swan's lifeline back together again, but it's always a life for a life. Mine was available and convenient, so here we are."

"Why would you die for Emma Swan?"

"I don't care about Emma Swan, but my grandson does. He doesn't deserve to lose both of his birth parents."

Cora nods in understanding.

"Besides, the incestuous vibes were reaching whole new levels of awkward. I know your daughters have been unfortunate in love, but throwing themselves at me won't help anyone." Death would have been an extreme reaction, but as an accidental benefit of his demise, he appreciates the escape.

Cora winces. "Yes, I can see how that would be distasteful. Still, I've resolved to let them handle their own affairs from now on."

"I won't say I'll ever harbor much fondness for Zelena, but maybe Regina will be a good influence on her. At least, once Regina comes to her senses and manages to integrate herself again." He can't forget what Zelena has done to him, but perhaps it's only just desserts for his own part in shaping her half-sister into someone willing to cast his Dark Curse.

"What about Belle? You've left her a widow. The last time you were in the underworld, you didn't even drop by to say hello to the woman you murdered, but I'm told you and your little wife were inseparable, even after you put her in Pandora's Box."

"It's over."

"Oh, but surely..." Cora's eyes search him, probing.

"Even if death had not parted us... Well." He drops his gaze. What is there to say? "If she had hated me, I might still have hoped for more, but at the end, she felt only disgust. No matter what I did, it was the wrong thing, in her eyes."

"I'm sorry." Her voice is sincere, without her usual half-mocking tone.

"Killian fucking Jones." For a moment, anger gets the better of him and the name slips out.

"Sorry?"

"Of all the places in Storybrooke, she decided to stay on the pirate's ship." He glances at Cora, grimaces at the look on her face.

"You mean, she and Hook..." Cora gestures suggestively, but her eyes betray surprise.

"No, no, no. She's just doing it to spite me." He forces down his rage. "As for him, he may have felt something for my first wife, but Belle is just another prop in the Captain Hook Show. Now that I'm out of the picture, maybe she'll find a friend who actually cares about her."

"Blind fool," Cora says softly, looking almost sympathetic. "But the living so often are. It took death to redeem myself in the eyes of my children, to understand what they wanted of me."

"Belle wants nothing from me now, not even my protection. I tried to protect her anyway, but anger makes for poor choices: I only made things worse."

"And the child you share? I heard rumors that Hades had a contract for your second-born."

"His mother will raise him. He's made it clear he wants nothing to do with his father."

"How sad. And if he changes his mind? Children... do. You can't give up on him, Rumple. You moved heaven and earth to find your Baelfire. Will you do less for your younger child?" She takes his hand between hers, in earnest now. She sounds like she actually cares.

Rumplestiltskin sighs. "If he wants to hear my voice, I left a cassette tape for him with his mother. If he chooses to listen — or to speak to me — it's more than a mere recording. Living or dead, it can serve as a conduit between us."

That, he thinks, is something else he and Cora have in common: they have destroyed their children's lives in the name of some misguided love.

"Oh, Rumple." She pulls him into her embrace. "I think you're the one who needs a friend."

"Don't we all?" His voice is muffled in her shoulder, but he returns the hug with a bitter snort of laughter. "But friendship isn't for people like us."

"And what about True Love?"

"True Love!" He breaks free, shoves Cora away and turns to face the pit again. "True Love is the strongest magic in all the realms..."

"So you've said." She touches his arm, but he shakes her off again.

"Don't you understand what that means? _Magic_ ," he hisses. "It's a tool of the Fates. True Love is how they manipulate us. But I've cut myself free!" Memories flood his mind, belying his words. He laughs through the tears that threaten his fragile peace.

"Rumple..."

He stares into the mists rising from the abyss, breathing carefully until his calm returns. "What do you want, Cora?"

"Maybe I just wanted to see my old teacher, bid him a last farewell," she says lightly.

"You wanted to see if I still had any power," he says. When he turns, he sees by the look on her face that his guess is accurate. She has been testing him all along, subtly, but his magical senses tell him the story.

"And you do," she says. "I wanted to ask for your help."

"Since you can't compel it," he says dryly. His dagger is well-protected and beyond her reach. His recent carelessness with Hyde has taught him to take better precautions. "So what kind of help are you looking for?"

"You said it already. I have to become a god."

"Really, dearie?" He can't help but be amused at her ambition. "I was only joking when I said that."

"I'm not," says Cora. "I can hold this realm for now, but not if Zeus makes up his mind to appoint a true god to replace Hades."

"And what do you expect me to do? My power has its limits. I can't just wave my hand and turn you into a deity."

"I know that, but if anyone can find a way, it'll be you."

"Flattery is worth even less than gold," he says. "Assuming I could, why would I help you? What can you offer me, this time?"

"A challenge," she says. She nods at the end of the bridge. "No matter what awaits you, it'll be a waste. Death, by definition, is an ending. An end to the story, an end to _doing_ things."

"Peace," says Rumplestiltskin. "I welcome it."

"Tedium," says Cora. She reaches for his hand again, and this time he does not resist as she draws him away from the pit. "Come now, isn't there anything that still moves you? Anything that you want?"

He doesn't answer.

She touches his face. "I saw it. Don't deny it. Fate. You're still angry at the Fates. For using you. For burdening you with True Love and then taunting you with it."

He pulls back, sinks into the shadows. "What's the use? Fate rules even the gods. No one can fight the Fates and win."

"No one can spin straw into gold," she reminds him.

"That's just magic."

"And magic is impossible, until it isn't. If you can master the Fates, then bestowing godhood on someone is easy."

He scoffs. "Easy to say! I've barely managed to sever myself from the Fates, and now you want me to challenge them?"

"Yes."

"You've never lacked for courage," he says. Unlike him, he thinks, remembering their first meeting in the tower. "Or imagination."

She smiles, and he sees the sharp edge behind her smile. She's set her challenge to him in a way that doesn't threaten his power. It's his heart she is gambling with, then.

"Only love," he concludes. "You ripped out your own heart to be rid of it."

"Not this time," she says. "I promise."

The promise is binding, when spoken to someone with his nature. He closes his eyes, a pang of regret shading his thoughts. So this is her offer. He echoes his own long-ago words, "I can give you nothing but darkness and isolation..."

"And love?" she asks, as she asked once before.

"I don't know." He looks at her again, sees the loneliness in her eyes. Her marriage had been long and loveless, with a husband she had never respected. It had been her own choice. Does she regret it now? It doesn't matter. They are where they are. Prince Henry has moved on. Cora remains here.

"We're older and wiser now, Rumple," she suggests.

"That's debatable, dearie. What we are is more _dead_."

"But we haven't _stopped_. Not yet."

"You'll never stop until your name is dust," says Rumplestiltskin. "Or I could throw you into the River of Souls now and save us all a world of pain." It doesn't take magic to know that her success will not be cheaply bought, and that a defeat could cost them even more.

"Is that what you want?"

Ambition. Love. He studies her face and wonders, which is the lie? Or are both true? The truth is, he's lonely, too. He finds an odd comfort in her companionship, even after all their mutual betrayals. To defy the Fates together, to challenge the gods themselves. Hubris, he thinks. But then again, wasn't that the story of their lives?

"Or do we have a deal?"

"What the hell. Let's do it." Rumplestiltskin smiles and sticks out a hand. "We have a deal."


	2. Postmortem

The pawn shop in the underworld is built of memories and nightmares, but the magic it holds is real enough. A crystal ball glows faintly violet, held on a wooden stand on the counter. Rumplestiltskin hunches over it, watching the world of the living.

It's late winter, the sky slate-gray and beginning to snow, when Belle steps out of the Storybrooke library. Though her pregnancy is well-advanced, she still shows up to work every day, easier now that she's moved back into the apartment above the stacks. He follows her footsteps as she finds her way to Granny's diner. He's comforted to see that she is met there by Leroy and Astrid.

He doesn't look up when Cora walks into the shop. He hears her approach, but is too engrossed in the visions to look away.

She joins him, peering down at the crystal ball. "What's the use of pining? You know this won't bring her back to you..."

"I'm not pining," he snaps. "I'm just... I just need to see."

"She looks well," says Cora. "Not exactly happy. I suppose she grieves for you, despite everything."

"There's no need," he mutters. "I'm sure my death came as a relief. An end to her misery." Belle had been miserable with him, hadn't she? Just like Milah. Fate and bad choices conspired against any chance of happiness. It was fate that he needed to untangle now. How did those threads come to bind them?

"An end to her hopes. But at least she still has a child to care for."

"A child destined to grow up to hate me." His fingers curl into fists and his jaw tightens as he remembers the dream world, where past and future mingle freely. His grown son had met him there with such hatred in his eyes... lost before he was even born.

"No." Cora slides a hand onto his shoulder and squeezes gently. "You cut your fate. Freed of that — they may come to remember you more kindly, in time. As I hope you may remember them."

"Do you? Truly?" Perhaps her sojourn in a better place has softened some of her edges, after all.

"Loyalty was always one of your more attractive qualities." Cora's tone is wistful. She has never known much loyalty in her life, yet in death she seems to yearn for it.

"Loyalty?" Rumplestiltskin gives a quick shake of his head. "I killed my father and I killed my first wife, twice over."

"They abandoned you."

"Milah abandoned our son." He turns suddenly, the image vanishing from the crystal, and Cora instinctively backs away, eyes wide. He has his hand raised to lash out at her. He swallows the sudden surge of darkness, and says softly, "Just as you abandoned your firstborn."

"To give my secondborn her best chance."

"To give _yourself_ your best chance."

Cora lowers her gaze. "Perhaps."

He sighs, his anger ebbing away into confusion. "Yet you crossed the bridge into a better place. After everything you've done... how is that possible?"

"I... I regretted what I had done. I made amends with my daughters..."

"And that was enough?" Rumplestiltskin stares at her in disbelief. "A cup of regrets washes away all sins? Is that it?"

Cora smiles sadly. "You still see things through mortal eyes: justice, punishment, sins. You exist in time's domain. This place... the powers above and below, they don't see us that way."

"What do you mean?"

"I think, if I had not stopped you, you would have gone to the light."

Rumplestiltskin freezes. "No. I carry too much darkness, even more than I did before, and I remember the first time I died..."

Cora shakes her head. "It was different this time. In that moment, you were at peace. You died a hero. And that is what the higher powers see: each moment is equally precious, and the light captures you at your best. Preserves the moment in eternity..."

He can hear the truth in her words, and suddenly the possibility overwhelms him. He whispers brokenly, "I could have found Bae?"

Cora reaches out, traces the track of the tear on his cheek. "Rumple, you already found him. Let him go. That light is too bright, it would burn away your humanity."

He shuts his eyes, pushing away regrets. He's made his decision, as has she. "Is that the real reason you left?"

"When Hades was destroyed, there was a rupture. Small, and brief, but it was enough for me to find my way back here."

"But there is no suffering there. Only peace." He _has_ glimpsed that light before, even when he was himself unworthy of it. To be a better place, it must have— "Love."

"Yes. Unchanging, eternal, perfect."

"You didn't want that?" He opens his eyes and studies her curiously.

"To be there is to want for nothing."

"And what are you without your ambition?" He knows her well enough to know that.

"A better woman, perhaps, but a duller one."

"Now who's seeing things as a mortal?"

Cora chuckles. "True. But to understand the workings of fate, you must transcend those limitations."

Rumplestiltskin turns back to the crystal ball with a sigh. "A moment, fleeting yet eternal?"

He waves a hand, sending time back, and a new image appears. A war room, full of warriors... and Belle, incongruous with her book and her golden ballgown. He watches as they ask the Dark One for his protection against the ogres...

"What are you looking for?"

The image freezes on Belle's face, the moment of decision.

 _I will go with you, forever._

 _The deal is struck._

"The magic," whispers Rumplestiltskin. "Was it there? Or..." He sends time skipping forward. A noblewoman crying in a dungeon. A thief. A sheriff. A library. And somehow, the woman begins to look at the monster differently... as if he might be a man worth knowing. A friend. A lover.

A fall from a ladder — in the crystal, he catches her. The moment freezes again.

"Such innocence." Cora's voice is soft by his ear. "And she fell right into your arms. Was that fate?"

"Fate — magic — can't create love." He still believes that to be true. Even the gods, even the fates, can only manipulate what is already there. Yet... The image moves again, stops on a kiss.

"Ah!" gasps Cora.

"Yes. It was enough to break my curse..." Rumplestiltskin sees the frightened eyes of the man behind the beast. "There's your proof. True Love."

"More powerful than the Dark One's curse?"

"If I had let it go..." Sometimes he wonders what would have been. As a mortal again, before Regina had cast the Dark Curse. Powerless, but with Belle at his side, scrabbling blindly for a path to Baelfire... "I might have died that much earlier."

"But you didn't want to lose the power."

"Would you have let it go?"

"Of course not."

Rumplestiltskin nods. "Of course not. Besides, I thought it was some trick. Who would love me? You wouldn't..."

"But she must have. For a moment, both of you must have believed."

"And then I cast her out." He watches himself speaking to her, listens as they cut each other with words.

"She returned."

"She did. And left again, and returned again. And then it was I who left to save my grandson. Perhaps we could have been together, after that, if I had not died."

"You still came back," Cora points out. "Death didn't stop you."

"But I think perhaps it twisted the threads of fate ever more tightly around us. Strangled our hearts."

The image shifts again. It's night. Belle stands at the town line with the dagger, while Rumplestiltskin crawls on his knees, pleading for mercy. She has none, not this time.

"She banished me." He watches her turn her back, watches himself limp away into the darkness. "I knew then that love wasn't enough."

"She could have gone with you. If she loved you."

"I lied to her. I hurt her too deeply."

"You could have told her the truth," suggests Cora.

"And lost her sooner." He looks at her, daring her to disagree. He had been honest with Cora, and she had left him, too.

Cora shakes her head. "Perhaps love is darkness, then, if it drives a good man to irrational acts of evil in order to keep it, even knowing that he must fail in the end. You should have taken out your own heart and saved both of yourselves the pain."

Rumplestiltskin scoffs. "Did it save Prince Henry any pain? The poor man genuinely adored you, in the beginning."

"He was sweet. But he knew what he was in for, with our marriage."

"I said that to Belle, once..."

"Well, then."

"But it wasn't true." He lowers his gaze back to the crystal, where Belle confronts him, then puts herself under a sleeping curse. Perhaps she has finally woken from that nightmare, now that he is gone. "We never know. No one sees their own future clearly."

"You're the Dark One. She should have known. She isn't stupid."

"No. Not stupid. Kind. She was kind, but I made her cruel." The crystal freezes on an image of Belle's face, filled with anger towards him, a dark reflection of his anger towards her all those years ago. "She was never spiteful before, until fear of me taught her spite."

"Married to you, she couldn't afford to be weak." Of course Cora sees kindness as weak, and spite as just another weapon in her arsenal.

"Mmm." But perhaps she has a point. He remembers how desperate Belle became to change him, to control his darkness. "One who lives in the house of a beast must either slay it or tame it, and she chose the latter. But the darkness cannot be tamed by light alone — it taints whatever leash binds it. And how she grew to love that leash, no matter how much it burned the hand that held it. I couldn't do that to her, not anymore."

"You still love her!" She puts a hand on his arm, then, and turns him to face her.

"Perhaps." He meets Cora's gaze. "She once saw a good man in me... but it wasn't enough. You saw something different, I think."

"I saw a man who lets nothing stand in his way. Nothing in this realm or any other stops you. You won your child back from Hades himself."

"You're in love with the Darkness, with my power." Without it, he's a coward. Worthless. Cora wouldn't waste her time on plain Rumplestiltskin.

"No." She doesn't flinch from the implicit accusation. "I know your past — it isn't your magic that makes you what you are. Even as a mortal, crippled peasant, penniless and alone, you set a Duke's castle alight and walked into the fire to steal the Dark One's dagger."

"Just as you, a miller's daughter, walked into a royal ball uninvited?" He had been watching her then, knowing she had a part in his quest. "And when caught by the king, instead of surrendering, you had the wit to spin a tale that bought you one last chance at freedom."

"More than that. You weren't content to command the Dark One's power. You took it for yourself..."

"And you did the same." He smiles at the memory.

 _Teach me,_ she had said, and in that moment he had seen her, not as a pawn to be used and discarded on his way to find his son, but as a woman who would always decide her own fate, and was bold enough to deal with the Dark One for it. A spark of defiance against inevitable night, something he was instinctively drawn to.

He had never been able to resist that attraction, not then, and not later. He sees his smile reflected on her face. There it is. Desperate souls, all of them. And unlike Cinderella, they each understood that magic came with a cost.

"We are what we are," Cora concludes. "Fate can only twist our paths so far. What happens between us, once we are brought together, is our own doing. Fate's magic, True Love, can only tie us to a moment that we created ourselves."

"As between Belle and I, but not you..."

"I removed my heart before that could happen," she reminds him.

"How convenient for you," he says. "But which moment was it? Could you see?"

Cora shakes her head. "No. But I have something that may help." She waves a hand and a blue glass vial appears between her fingers. "The Blind Witch brewed this. It's called the Insight of the Eyeless. Here..."

He takes the vial from her, opens it, and probes it with his magical senses. There are spells known to the dead that he has not cared enough to learn. Not until now. Poured upon the crystal, the strands of fate become visible. Darkness shrouds Rumplestiltskin, corrodes his heart. True Love pulses red, tying two souls together.

He traces it back to its source. "There. The kiss."

Together, they watch as past-Rumplestiltskin and past-Belle come together for a moment of perfect alignment. Red light blooms from their touch.

"It's a singularity," he says. "A point where reality becomes meaningless, opening a door for fate to find its way in."

Streaks of red grow from that singularity, forwards in time, backwards, sideways... pushing aside darkness for a moment.

"True Love's Kiss breaks any curse," he mutters.

"In an instant, quicker than thought. But your curse remained. How curious." Cora leans forward to examine the swirling haze of magic. "The strongest magic in any realm, pouring into you, yet..."

The image freezes again. A web of darkness engulfs the imp once more.

"The moment was lost." Rumplestiltskin shrugs.

"You no longer saw it as a curse."

"A curse, a gift — it depends on your point of view. The Dark One's dagger is also the Holy Grail. It's an invited guest as much as an intruder." He rewinds the moment back. "But it was caught inside by the moment, like a traveler taking shelter from a storm, and the burden of fate fell on us both, and Belle also."

"A storm... in the living world, storms are brought by clouds. What's the source for this magic of fate?"

"That's what I've been trying to understand. It's another realm, one with more magic than ours," he says, gesturing expansively.

"Or _different_ magic," counters Cora.

"A realm that dispenses prophecies like so much candy from a vending machine."

"A what?"

And then he has to explain vending machines to her. "I think it's where we need to go, if we truly want to decide our own fates..."

"How?"

"A door opens both ways. If fate can come in through the singularity, then we can leave the same way. At least, that's the theory."

"Simple enough. We just have to open another 'singularity.'" Cora stops. "Ah."

Rumplestiltskin stares at her. "Yeah."

"So? We only need one moment of perfect alignment. And what other candidates do you have at hand?" Cora demands.

Rumplestiltskin scowls. "I know that. But... it has to be _True Love_. And though you're a lovely woman, for a homicidal psychopath..."

"At least we have that in common," she murmurs teasingly.

"Don't remind me." He takes a breath, then releases it slowly. "I don't think I'm ready for another romantic relationship."

He waves a hand over the crystal ball and the images fade into a deep purple void. For a long moment, the two of them look at each other.

Then Cora smiles and takes Rumplestiltskin's hand. "My dear Rumple. Who said it has to be a _romantic_ relationship? I told you that you needed a friend, and I still believe that's true."

And he knows that in her own way, Cora has always had as much faith in him as Belle ever did. Not to be a good man, but to do whatever it took, even if it meant arranging Cora's death to save his own life. She would have killed him with the Dark One's dagger if he had failed. But that is how they play the game — with ruthless honesty — and she trusts him to understand, just as he trusts her not to hold this grudge. But friendship calls for more...

His fingers tighten around hers. He says slowly, "Neither of us has had many friends in our lives, have we?"

"True loyalty isn't easy to come by."

"Friends watch each other's backs," he says, "without plunging knives into them. Can we share that kind of trust between us?"

"Let's find out."

A moment is all that's needed to open the door, but Rumplestiltskin knows they'll also need something to push them through, and to that end he arranges a spell. He binds the magic to a shriveled brown flower, which he and Cora clasp between their linked hands.

"What's that?"

"A weed that grows and dies in the Underworld. It responds to the presence of hope, of love," he explains. "We'll know when we've succeeded if it revives itself."

In the end, it's only a matter of letting go of everything, every stray thought and uncertainty. They face each other and in that moment, no one else exists, and then they let their lips touch...

Gray petals gleam white and green returns to the withered stem, triggering a rush of magic that propels Rumplestiltskin and Cora through the gap between realities. The two of them cling to each other in the maelstrom that engulfs them.

He feels the world slip by in words, always words, and his being is words and

 _...the daisiest daisy..._

the script is not his story he is real he is free it collapses where are they the lines the lines the words a cage a cage broken broken broken the path spoken cannot the true path no no space is time is words is sequence is broken

 _The Dark One and the Queen of Hearts_

not the story not the page not the words

free

* * *

 **Author's notes:** *watches episode 7.04, dies* "Eternal love"!? So eternal that you have to immediately kill it off? It's impossible to have Belle as an actual character? What a transparently manipulative episode (and another bullshit prophecy) ... ok, fine, it worked on me. *wipes away a tear at some beautiful scenes* But that's down to the actors more than the writing. I suppose it was the best we were ever gonna get from this show. (Hurrah for fanfiction!)

So, in "celebration", I decided to add another chapter to this fic. (Can't bring myself to work on the other one at the moment.)

In other words, this is the chapter where I release wraith!Rumple and angel!Cora to go after the showrunners and writers...


	3. Mother's Day

Magic beans. Magic beans are everywhere. They mock him with their abundance in every story except his own, back when it mattered. Cursing the cruelty of fate, Rumplestiltskin harvests them now from every burned field, every thieving hand, every forgotten cranny where once they were kept from his reach.

Nothing is beyond his reach, now. Not when he has cut himself free from the web of fate. He may be free, but others remain bound by destiny's strands. He looks into the stories of those he once cared for, and is appalled at what he sees.

"No. No, this cannot stand. I won't allow it." He sends darkness to wipe out the damning words, but other forces hold them in place.

"What's wrong, dear?" Cora returns from her own explorations to find him snarling at the ever-shifting scripts that surround him.

"I can fix this." He raises his dagger and concentrates his power through it, finds the ones behind his family's misery. "The Dark One summons thee!"

"Who?" Cora sifts through the words around him, her eyes widening in comprehension as she reads. "Ah."

"The authors of our destiny." Compelled by his summoning, they hang in the air before him: translucent humanoid shapes, featureless and flat. With his free hand, Rumplestiltskin tosses out a bean. It explodes into a glowing green vortex that swallows up the shapes. As they fall, they take on color and definition. Their faces distort with terror, their screams cut off as they vanish into the portal.

Then the vortex shrinks to a point and is gone.

The silence that follows is broken at last by Cora. "Where did you send them?"

"An island. A very remote island, where they won't be concerning themselves with our stories anymore."

"That last one... it looked a bit like you." She turns, eyeing his face curiously. "Except for that ridiculous profusion of facial hair. Who was that?"

"Ah. That was Colonel Ives. He's a wendigo."

"A what?"

"A cannibalistic monster possessing supernatural strength and fortitude. I found him dying in a bear trap. His resemblance to me was purely fortuitous." It forms a link between them, making the wendigo easier to access, but for once, fate has no hand in the coincidence.

"Revenge, Rumple?" Cora sounds more amused than disapproving. "I thought Belle had cured you of your darker impulses."

Rumplestiltskin shrugs ruefully. "I thought we agreed she hadn't, or we might still be together now."

Cora scoffs. "No, fate would never have allowed you more than a moment's peace."

And knowing what he knows now, he has to agree. Any happiness he could have with Belle would be brief, an illusion of eternity passing in the blink of an eye. He wants better for her. Better for their son.

"Well, dearie, fate is no longer my master, and as for my family..." With a flourish of his hands, Rumplestiltskin calls up another magic bean. "It's time I had a chat with my mother."

* * *

His mother is the Black Fairy, and she lives in the Dark Realm. It is a land that reeks of magic — a land riddled with mine shafts and unlit waterways. Its mistress has not seen sunlight in centuries of exile.

"They call her the Black Star," Rumplestiltskin says as they step through the portal.

"How did someone with so little imagination in nomenclature end up with a son called 'Rumplestiltskin'?" asks Cora.

"My father named me. He meant it as an insult." After having seen the story unfold in the realm of words, he knows why. "He resented me for his wife's death — more lies from the blue insect."

"Hmm. I must have skimmed over that part." Cora runs a ghostly finger along the wall of the tunnel as they head towards the heart of the Black Fairy's domain. A residue of dark fairy dust glitters in the wake of her motion, but remains unstirred.

Rumplestiltskin and Cora are wraiths here, lacking substance. It is only through magic that they can make themselves perceptible to the living. They pass unnoticed through the shuffling ranks of the humans kidnapped and enslaved by the Black Fairy.

He finds her alone in her workshop, brewing spells from dark fairy dust. "Hello, Mother."

The Black Fairy recoils in shock as Rumplestiltskin manifests himself in front of her. "It can't be!"

"Oh, but it is," he says. He hears Cora chuckle from behind him, but she remains hidden on the astral plane for now.

"But you're dead." The Black Fairy steps forward, reaches out for her son. Her hand passes through him — he is image without substance, a disembodied spirit. A flicker of disappointment crosses her face, turns into resolve. "I see. It's no matter. It'll be all right, son. We can be a family as we were meant to be. I promise."

Rumplestiltskin smirks. "Well, that makes a change from shoving me to the ground in disgust."

The Black Fairy flinches. "It was the shock. I'm sorry, I should never have..." She sighs, then draws a deep breath. "You see, I never expected that my son would become the Dark One, when your fate was... was light. You were born to be... to be..."

"A Savior?"

"A sacrificial lamb!" spits the Black Fairy. "So you know, then."

"Yes, I saw what happened." Knowing they were doomed to destroy one another, his mother chose to cut his fate rather than her own, clinging to her power at his expense. "You used the shears on me."

"Can you forgive me?" Her tone changes to one of pleading. "I always loved you. I would never have left you. It was the Blue Fairy who forced me into darkness. I was trying to protect you!"

"I know." He understands perfectly, to his shame. Hasn't he done the same to Baelfire? "But I also know what you're planning now. That's why I'm here — to stop you."

"I'm doing it for you! To make up for all you've suffered because of me. We can finally have the life we should have had."

"I'm dead, Mother."

"I can change that," insists the Black Fairy, and Rumplestiltskin can see the utter conviction in her eyes. "I can change it all."

"At what cost? Gideon? He's my son!" Rumplestiltskin is all too familiar with that trade, one he never consented to. He won't let it happen again. "He deserves to grow up safe and loved, with his mother."

"His mother who can't accept you."

"And I accept that. Don't take my child."

"It's for his own good. I will make him strong and brave."

"You'll torture him and try to shape him into one of your minions." Tears blur his vision as Rumplestiltskin remembers what he saw in the realm of words. "And when he refuses, you will take his heart..."

"Oh, my son, don't you understand? We must all make some sacrifices, but the end will be worth it. Your child is destined to destroy the Savior. He is the one who can take back the power that should have been yours, Rumple." She reaches out in a phantom caress, fingers almost brushing his cheek. "All reality will be ours to reshape."

Rumplestiltskin can't bear to look at her anymore. His fingers tighten into fists, and he whispers, "Don't. Please don't do this."

"We'll have everything we ever wanted. You'll see."

"You won't, you know." Cora manifests at his shoulder.

The Black Fairy glares at the intrusion. "Who are you to speak to me so?"

"Cora," mutters Rumplestiltskin, tense with uncertainty.

"I'm a mother, too," she says. "Like you, I thought I knew what was best for my child. Power, wealth, status, grandchildren. Happiness and love were expendable. After all, power is the key to freedom, and what is happiness but the freedom to do as you wish? Well. Do you know what my daughter did?"

"I can't imagine."

"She tried to kill me." Cora chuckles in delight, as if relating some anecdote of juvenile antics. "She failed, of course." Then her tone darkens. "But _your_ son will not. _That's_ the part he doesn't want to say. If you go too far, he won't forgive you. He will look you in the eye as he kills you..."

Rumplestiltskin shudders, closing his eyes in pain at the memory of that future. A future that Cora has also seen, but doesn't seem to hold against him.

Cora rests a hand softly on his shoulder, ghost to ghost, and her voice is gentle as she reiterates her point. "He did it to his father. He'll do it to his mother. Anything to save his child."

"No." At first shaky, the Black Fairy gains strength in her denial. "No. You're bluffing. He's dead. He has no such power anymore."

"Is that what you think? So many assumptions. The dead are impotent. The dead have no future. The dead shed no tears." Cora lightly touches Rumplestiltskin's face, her finger coming away wet. He doesn't resist, even though he knows the power in a tear. As bold as she ever was, Cora dares him to trust her. So he does. He waits, senses the magic reacting in a flare of dark fairy dust. "Yet here we are. Don't make the mistake I did when I assumed he was dying and powerless — that was the day I died."

"No," the Black Fairy says again, this time in a voice full of anguish. "No. My son, you _are_ dead, and I must save you. Who else can do it? Not your wife, not your lover, and who else in the world even cares enough to try?"

"Dead is dead," whispers Rumplestiltskin. Eyes burning, he looks at his mother at last. "Let me go, Mother. And let them go, these children you've enslaved. Please. If you ever loved me, then let us go."

"Go? Go where? This realm is a trap. The only way out is through the Savior's death."

"The only way that _you_ know," says Cora. In her hands she holds a vial of glowing dust. "But _we_ know the spells that the dead know. Isn't that right, Rumple?" She hands him the vial.

He probes the magic, recognizes the spell woven from dark fairy dust and his own tears. _The spells that the dead know._ Of course. Upon death, every soul has its passage to the Underworld, even from here. With the right magic, that path can be traveled by the living — Charon's ferry is only the most famous example. With the addition of a magic bean, that path can be bent to any destination. "Indeed. As to where to go, I suggest... Storybrooke. The Land Without Magic offers an easier life than the Enchanted Forest. And the Sorcerer's Mansion lies empty. What better use for it than to house the children you stole from their homes?"

"I stole none of them!" The Black Fairy looks hurt at the accusation.

"No? That wasn't what I heard." Rumplestiltskin had once been ready to believe the worst of the mother who abandoned him, but now his heart twists as he sees that she cares what he thinks of her. She craves his regard. He remembers wanting the same from his son, remembers asking it of Isaac Heller as Rumplestiltskin sat dying on the floor of the pawnshop, that Bae think well of his papa in the rewritten reality. Rumplestiltskin's family history is full of such dark irony. "Did they rain down from the sky, these babies?"

"Zelena did," murmurs Cora. "But I never told anyone about her, not then."

The Black Fairy looks at Cora, a knowing glint in her eye. "You didn't. Others... well, I never snatched infants from their mothers' arms, but to hear them tell it..."

"They wanted to deflect blame from themselves. To buy sympathy with a tale of woe." Cora sighs, shaking her head. "You're a man, Rumple. You don't know what it was like, to be young and alone and pregnant with no father in sight and no future. When you're barely treading water as it is, a newborn will only drag you both down."

" _That_ I know well enough," Rumplestiltskin says darkly. "Papa made sure I understood what a burden I was before he threw me to the Shadow." And right before he tried to kill Belle and Bae, but that conversation isn't one Rumplestiltskin wants to share with his mother. "It's inevitable, perhaps. What's good for one comes at the expense of another, even between parent and child. The most powerful magic in the world can't change that."

"I hoped that he would love you as I did," the Black Fairy says softly. "Malcolm was a good man, once."

Rumplestiltskin's jaw tightens. None of that matters now. They are where they are. "We're not talking about me. Or Zelena. These children you have hacking away in your mines..."

"Every one of them was abandoned," says the Black Fairy. "I _saved_ them."

"Then it's time you did a better job of it."

The Black Fairy looks at him. "Is that really what you want?"

"It is."

"But I could give you so much more."

"No."

In the end, he persuades her to give up her dream of remaking the world in her own image, if not for love or desire to do good, then out of fear of bringing on their long-delayed fate of mutual destruction.

There are thirty-six slaves currently in the Black Fairy's service. They leave behind many times more graves dug by the survivors down the generations. The Dark Realm is full of hazards — Storybrooke is paradise in comparison. Rumplestiltskin unfolds the interior dimensions of the Sorcerer's mansion to find them thirty-six bedrooms, with one more for his mother. The children are children again, once they are free of the chaotic timeline of the Dark Realm, ranging in age from eleven months to fourteen years old.

 _Old enough for the Duke's army_ , he can't help thinking. But there is no war here. Not if he can help it. "Thirty-six children. I trust you'll be too busy with their care to go abducting any more, Mother dear. Especially my son."

"I told you, I don't abduct them," says the Black Fairy in irritation. "And I only wanted your son so that I could save _your_ life."

"It's too late for that." Rumplestiltskin gestures at the youngest child, a toddler clinging to the Black Fairy's leg. "She is the one who needs saving. She and all the rest stampeding down the hallways."

"Yes, thirty-six is quite a handful," says Cora, throwing an amused glance at the mob noisily exploring the mansion. "If I were you, I'd look into sending some of them to Rumple's wife, rather than the other way around."

Rumplestiltskin scowls at Cora. "Leave Belle out of it."

"I can handle them," the Black Fairy says haughtily. "As long as the idiots who run this little town don't provoke me."

Cora's eyes narrow. "My daughter is the mayor here."

"Actually, only half of her is the mayor," Rumplestiltskin corrects her.

"It worries me," Cora admits later. Leaving the Black Fairy in the mansion with her foster children, Rumplestiltskin and Cora transport themselves to the clock tower above the library. "It can't be healthy for Regina, this splitting into two separate people, each of them only half of herself."

"No, it's not," agrees Rumplestiltskin. "But it's merely an outward expression of what you and I have done to her. You wanted a different daughter than the one you had, and I wanted an Evil Queen to cast the curse. Between us, we fractured her soul."

"Surely there's some way to heal her!"

"She always wanted your love and approval, but she hated the person she thought you wanted. Now she can't accept that some part of her is capable of being as ruthless as you, as cruel as you. Perhaps even enjoys it."

"It's human nature," says Cora. "That darkness is what gives us the strength to survive."

"And now we're dead." He shoos Cora away with a sardonic wave. "Go haunt your daughters, Cora. You're clever and resourceful. I'm sure you'll manage, somehow."

Cora chuckles and nods. A moment later she vanishes in a puff of smoke.

Left alone with his own thoughts, Rumplestiltskin runs out of excuses to delay his own visitations.

 _Coward._

Yes. But his son needs him. That is why the portal took him to this time, mere hours after Belle has given birth.

* * *

No one at the hospital sees the wraith. Rumplestiltskin follows the blood tie that links them to the room where his infant son sleeps in a hospital bassinet. It looks cold and bare to his eye — a plastic box on a wheeled metal frame. The label on the side says "Baby Gold", but Rumplestiltskin knows that Belle named him "Gideon" after the hero from her book.

"Gideon," he whispers. "Your papa's here."

He longs to pick up his child and hold him. Such a simple wish, but he knows that its fulfillment would come at too high a price. So he doesn't touch his son. Instead, he uses strands of fate taken from the realm of words, and weaves them into a protection for Gideon. That done, he dares not linger here.

"I love you, and I would never leave you if I had a choice, but this realm has no place for me. This is my last gift to you, son. Your future is your own. No one decides your fate but you, as your mother would tell you." And now Rumplestiltskin has ensured that it is more than a bold delusion: for Gideon, it is the truth. "Our family has been destiny's plaything for too long, but that ends here. Good bye, Gideon."

What comes next is even more difficult.

"Belle," he begins, but words fail him. Belle is never less than beautiful, even lost in the exhausted slumber of a new mother. Rumplestiltskin reaches out to cup her cheek, but he is a ghost, and no contact is possible.

Just as well, he thinks. She doesn't want to see him or talk to him. He wonders if she is still angry, and hopes not, for their child's sake. In the end, he leaves without waking her. The only mark of his passage is a black rose, conjured from a smidgen of dark fairy dust. He drops it on the wheeled table by her bed.

 _Coward._

He doesn't look back. On the table, a dark bloom of red glows in the heart of the rose.

* * *

The Sorcerer's mansion is full of hidden turnings and oddly-angled rooms populated by strange artifacts. This one contains a candelabra. And a clock, and a teapot, and more. Rumplestiltskin recognizes them from their stories in the realm of words. He doesn't know where Zelena saw them, but she grew up in Oz, and Oz has connections to many realms. She set them in the Dark Castle to bait her trap, but once it was sprung, she had no more use for them. How they ended up in the Sorcerer's mansion, Rumplestiltskin doesn't know. The same way the Hat did, he supposes.

 _Fate playing games with us._

As he did with Gideon, Rumplestiltskin unbinds fate from the enchanted objects.

"Lumiere. Cogsworth. Mrs Potts." Naming them one by one, he restores them to their human forms. They are understandably confused. Happy to be freed, but wary of the Dark One — especially a ghostly Dark One who isn't quite there.

"Can you send us home?" is the main question on their lips.

"Alas, no." He sees that they are ignorant of their true nature. "I can't return you, because you never left. You're copies. Untethered reflections without a home."

They don't believe him. Why would they? He shows them their world in a crystal ball, but they take the images for lies. But with magic beans no longer in short supply, it's no trouble at all to take them on a trip. Cloaked under a spell, they watch together as the Beauty and the Beast celebrate the breaking of their curse. It's a joyous party that has no part for the duplicates. And none for Rumplestiltskin: _his_ tale had no such happy ending.

"You see?" Back in Storybrooke, Rumplestiltskin waits for them to adjust to this revelation. Once they do, they are ripe for a deal. Then he takes them to meet his mother.

"This is the Black Fairy." One end of the deal struck, he has to sell the other. "With thirty-six children to care for, she could really use a bit of help around the place."

"What is this, Rumple?"

"The help!" Rumplestiltskin makes the introductions.

His new recruits bow and curtsy hesitantly. "At your service, your fairyship."

"There's no such word as 'fairyship'," says Rumplestiltskin. "No need to be so formal. We're all family here."

The Black Fairy sighs. "Actually, I'm going by 'Lady Fiona' now. I don't need the association to Reul Ghorm."

 _Lady?_ Rumplestiltskin knows full well his mother is as common as dirt, but he is willing to humor her. If he can spend centuries prancing around as the Dark One by virtue of stabbing a man in the chest, she can elevate herself to whatever noble station she likes, and it would be hypocritical for him to complain. Mostly, he hopes that freed of the Dark Realm's malign influence, his mother can feel love and compassion again.

She agrees to make a home with the children and the newly restored residents. No Dark Curses, no murders, no one forced into slavery. It's a start.

And when Cora shows up, she reports that Mayor Mills has invited the Black Fairy in for a meeting, to make sure that this new addition to Storybrooke is integrated smoothly. The Black Fairy — Fiona — rolls her eyes, but seems agreeable.

Rumplestiltskin says in an aside to Cora, "The _singular_ Mayor Mills?"

Cora looks smug. "I'm back to having two daughters, yes."

"Good." He pushes back a wave of regrets. "Then... then we are done here."

His mother turns sharply. "You're leaving already? You can't! Not when we're finally together again. A family, isn't that what you always wanted?"

"The dead can't stay in the realm of the living," he says. "You know that." It is why she has been desperate to undo his death. The truth is, he doesn't even want to go back. There is clarity in this ghostly state. As a wraith, he is no longer subject to the pain of flesh or the lash of hope. He tries to explain to his mother.

Understanding proves elusive, but reconciliation is enough for now.

"Will I see you again?" his mother asks.

"I don't know. But love these children, if you can, and remember me." Their hands almost meet, then pass through each other.

"Farewell, my son."

* * *

"Interesting woman, your mother," says Cora. They are back in the realm of words. Neither has any desire to return to the Underworld yet, not with so many other possibilities now open to them.

"Mmm."

"You know, I think her plan could have worked."

 _That_ focuses his attention back on her. Quick as a serpent's strike, he seizes Cora by the throat. "What? No! You _dare_ lay a finger on my son..."

She wraps a hand gently around his where it threatens to choke her. "No, of course not. But there are many Saviors, in many worlds."

"And you think we should ruin some innocent's life, for what? More power?"

"Unimaginable power. We would truly be gods." She smiles knowingly at him, head tilted awkwardly against his grip. "And we wouldn't have to ruin anyone's life. Not anyone real, at least."

Rumplestiltskin frowns, releasing her and stepping back. "There's always a price, dearie."

"But what if the people who pay it are already doomed?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Look around you." Cora gestures expansively. "Out there are worlds whose fates have already been cut. Dead worlds, ones bound for oblivion, but still containing unrealized potential. They've already paid the ultimate price. Why let that power go to waste, when we can harvest it?"

Rumplestiltskin considers. It's an interesting proposition. To over-rule fate, to rewrite destiny — he _is_ tempted, even if it's just for the challenge. And they won't be taking the future away from anyone who has one to begin with. "Well, dearie, do you have a candidate in mind for our... intervention?"

Cora smirks. "As a matter of fact, I do." She shows it to him.

"What the hell," he says, the words taking on a ritual quality as he finishes his reply just as he did before, "let's do it."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Cora does actually remind me of my mother in some ways, though obviously my mother wasn't an evil manipulative heart-crushing sorceress. I'm just saying, of the mothers on the show, she's the one I feel closest to... yeah. So, this chapter is dedicated to the memory of my mother, since it's Mother's Day in my country today. :)

And remember, this is the kinder, gentler Cora who's been in the Good Place. That's OUAT for ya: Cora goes to heaven after twenty minutes of being nice to her daughters (not to mention Liam and his last-minute redemption), but Rumplestiltskin pretty much has to be a saint for an entire season and have everyone rub it in his face for half of it that one little misstep means eternal damnation!

Addendum: Yeah, so episode 7.21 happened. I am just...no. No. Wiping it out of my mind with my version of Rumple sans Belle.


	4. Interlude 1: The Black Fairy's Curse

"Madam Mayor." The Black Fairy strolls into Regina's office as if she owns the place. She _does_ own the place, magically speaking, as the original creator of the Dark Curse. While her son was alive, she was satisfied to let him collect the rent, but now that he is dead, it's time to clarify a few matters. Because she is not interested in starting a war, she brings along the most irresistible of her orphans, a sweet-tempered four-year-old called Jo.

She lets Jo cling to her left hand while she proffers her right hand to Regina. "Fiona Black."

"I know who you are." The mayor eyes her with suspicion, ignoring the outstretched hand, while Jo in turn eyes the mayor with innocent curiosity. "But who's this child?"

"Jo, dear, say hello to the mayor," Fiona prompts. She idly imagines herself in the mayor's chair, behind the mayor's desk, then thinks better of it. The novelty would quickly wear off, and she has better things to do than pretend to care about the petty concerns of the townsfolk.

"Hello, mayor," Jo chirps, wiggling a hand at Regina.

"Jo is one of thirty-six orphans in my care."

"So I've heard."

Fiona smiles sweetly. "Don't believe everything you hear. People in small towns can be such gossips."

"You're not here to cause trouble, I hope."

"Why would I want to cause trouble?" Fiona is amused by the mayor's bluntness. Not a subtle woman, this Regina Mills. "I'm here to provide a safe, healthy home for my children."

"I see." Regina's expression turns sour.

"Many of them are of an age to attend school. Education is so important, wouldn't you agree, Madam Mayor?" Fiona takes a step closer, pressing a palm on the mayor's desk, summoning just a hint of darkness to make her presence _felt_.

Regina's eyes narrow, but she refuses to be intimidated. "Naturally."

Fiona laughs inwardly as she relents, stepping back again. Now that she's met Regina first-hand, she understands her son's fondness for the woman. And however complicated their relationship, she is family, too. "Then there will be no problem registering them and integrating them into your classes..."

Regina sighs. "It's summer. School doesn't start until the end of August." She rummages in a file cabinet, then slides it shut and hands Fiona a stack of forms. "Bureaucracy: the most powerful magic in this land."

* * *

When the weather permits, Fiona takes the children on long walks around their new hometown. They are fascinated by the houses, the shops, the streets, the vehicles, the people, the open sky, the trees — everything is so different from the Dark Realm. Fiona is as intrigued as the children, but something else nags at her — a distorted tinge of magical residue that overlays everything, including the minds of the residents.

It's the Dark Curse. Cast once, twice, three times, four... it's a mess. And it's not the same spell she created so many years ago. Memories and perceptions are an overcooked clot of lies and truth. The town line is a jagged discontinuity between worlds. Time is distorted, the threads of fate mangled and spliced together haphazardly. If she is to clean this up, she will have to start with the most recent caster.

She traces Captain Hook down to the docks and finds him lurking on his ship. Before she approaches the pirate, she turns to her chief of security. "You can take the children from here, Mr. Heimdall."

"Aye, my lady." This Heimdall isn't really the Norse god, of course. Fiona conjured him out of a fiction and a blank page of the Author's books, along with a scattering of other characters that struck her fancy. The crew of servants supplied by Rumplestiltskin is all very well, but no match for the potential dangers lurking in Storybrooke.

"Don't let anyone tumble into the harbor; that water looks positively filthy." Leaving her orphans in the charge of Heimdall and the other chaperones, Fiona saunters onto the deck of the Jolly Roger. "Captain Hook. A moment of your time, if you please."

The pirate meets her with a scowl, not pleased in the least. "Who the devil are you?"

Fiona chuckles lightly as she looks him up and down. "Never you mind, dear. I'll be needing a hair and a drop of blood from you."

"Hell, no." Hook reaches for his sword.

A swish of magic puts the sword in Fiona's hand. "Now, let's not make this difficult. You give me what I want, and I won't tell your darling fiancee about your little adventure with her grandfather..."

"What in the seven seas are you blathering about?"

Fiona smirks and conjures a dreamcatcher with her free hand. She sweeps it over the pirate's head, then summons the memory inside the web. She knows already what she will see — while trapped in the Dark Realm with an over-abundance of time, she made a study of her son's life. When the Evil Queen dealt with the Dark One for a shepherd's lucky coin, Fiona made it her business to find out why.

Hook is caught by surprise, but recognizes himself in the images, ruthlessly killing an innocent man chained to a cart even as he begs for his life. "That... that was...?"

"Robert. Emma's father's father," Fiona supplies.

Hook rallies. "It's your word against mine. She has no reason to believe you."

"Don't forget the Savior's ability to scent a lie." Fiona smiles, knowing she has him. "Will you risk losing her regard? Her father is already wary of you. I doubt this accusation will improve his opinion."

In the end, Hook agrees to her terms. Fiona slices a lock of hair from his head with the sword, nicking his scalp enough to collect the blood she requires. Blackmail is the least of what he deserves, but it's a satisfying start.

* * *

The wand _sings_ to her, reminding her of everything she used to be. If she had held this wand when she reclaimed her place among the fairies instead of borrowing Tiger Lily's, Reul Ghorm would never have been able to banish her. Well. She hadn't known, then, what her fate would be. No use dwelling on the past.

Fiona slips her wand away, then collects the rest of what she needs from her son's shop.

The bells on the door interrupt her. "You! You... you're the Black Fairy! What are you doing here?"

The shocked voice belongs to her son's wife. _Widow_. Fiona grits her teeth on the correction. She takes a breath, then replies, "I have every right to be here. I am family, after all."

"You dare call yourself 'family'? After you abandoned your son without even giving him a name?" Belle stalks forward, eyes blazing, putting herself between Fiona and her own infant son sleeping in the stroller behind her. Never mind that she has no magic to defend either of them. Typical, thinks Fiona. After all, it takes a certain reckless idiocy to look at the Dark One and see a man she can shape into the hero of her childhood fantasy. It only lasted as long as it did because a lifetime of trauma had left her son vulnerable to his beloved's manipulation.

Anger rises in her at the thought. "Oh, you want to talk about abandonment? Who abandoned him? It certainly was never my choice. Reul Ghorm cast me into the Dark Realm and stole my child from me, then left him without a care in the arms of a father who blamed him for my 'death'. No wonder he despised and hated his own child."

"Wha-what?" stammers Belle. "No. That...that isn't what..."

"Isn't what Blue told you? Of course not. She knows I was only trying to save my son's life. _She_ was the one who lied to his father and ruined whatever chance of happiness he had after she banished me." Fiona sees the spark of belief in the other woman, and presses her advantage. "Your precious Blue Fairy is a vile creature, wearing a smile to conceal her knife. Why do you think she sent you to stop Rumple from summoning me? She was afraid I might tell him the truth!"

"But you... you steal babies. Kidnap them to the Dark Realm!"

"More lies and half-truths. I saved them from women who abandoned the ones they were meant to love. Much like you, my dear little hypocrite."

Belle turns pale, shaking her head. "I...I never...never _abandoned_ him."

"I suppose he just stumbled across the town line with only the clothes on his back, in the depths of winter without even a walking stick, by his own choice?" sneers Fiona.

"It was his choice to lie to me! He pretended to trust me and then gave me a false dagger." Belle's voice gains strength as old resentments stir again. "He chose revenge and murder. I had to stop him."

"He chose freedom — after a year of slavery, how could he not? — over a worthless pirate's life."

"No one is worthless! I had to save—"

"Save Killian Jones? The same pirate who shot you, then stabbed my son with a hook coated with dreamshade poison — in a place without magic, so that he would have died of it if Cora hadn't paid her life for his — the same pirate who never even saw the inside of a jail cell for his crimes?"

"Killian's changed. He's... he's trying to be a better man," Belle protests feebly.

Fiona is not impressed. "My son moved heaven and earth to wake you from a curse you placed on yourself, but instead of thanking him for his efforts — efforts that Hook did his best to foil — you ran straight to the Jolly Roger."

"It wasn't like that," Belle mutters, not meeting Fiona's eyes.

"But then, I shouldn't be surprised. From the very first, you've been quick to befriend my son's enemies. Robin Hood broke into his house, shot him with an arrow from an enchanted bow, fully intending to kill him, and stole a wand instead of dealing honestly for it — yet you released him and made every effort to spare him the price."

"Well, he's dead now," Belle snaps, gaze flashing up in defense of her friend.

"And why did he die? Because your heroes blackmailed my son into taking them to the Underworld for the sake of a man who had plotted all their deaths only the day before. Because they were then foolish enough to make deals with Hades, ultimately bringing him to Storybrooke. Robin Hood died trying to rectify that mistake."

Belle gulps, having no quick answer to that, and Fiona thinks that perhaps she didn't know. She hadn't been on speaking terms with her husband afterwards, and who else would have told her? Who would have told her that Belle herself had been the leverage they held against Rumplestiltskin? That heroes and villains alike viewed her as no more than a whip to use against the Dark One? And perhaps she has an inkling. Or she doesn't want to know. Either way, she neither denies Fiona's statements nor asks for clarification.

"But no, none of that matters to you," Fiona continues into Belle's silence. "Your husband was the worst of the worst, the most evil of evils, the stuff of nightmares."

At that, Belle finds her tongue again. "He took back the Darkness! He could have been a hero, but he let his fears consume him. That's worse than evil, that's being too weak to be good."

Fiona snorts bitterly. "He sacrificed himself again, and you still think that?"

"He was trying to steal the Shears of Destiny. He was working with the Evil Queen..." Belle's voice trails off, losing its self-righteous certainty. "It was another of his schemes... wasn't it?"

"He was trying to save the Savior — and he succeeded. My poor boy. _He_ was the one born to be the Savior, but he never knew until it was too late."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Another truth your saintly Blue Fairy wanted to bury. Rumplestiltskin was destined to be a Savior. Born with great light magic, but destined to die while destroying a great evil. I made a choice to avert that fate. A poor choice, I can see that now — but I was trying to protect him."

Belle stares at her, aghast, but not disbelieving. And she puts the pieces together. "You... you used the shears on him?"

"Well, it didn't work, did it? He died anyway — taking a great evil with him." Another great evil to be laid at Reul Ghorm's feet. Malcolm would never have become the demon Pan if the fairies had never fluttered in their window that midwinter night when Rumplestiltskin was born. But would-be "heroes" could never leave well enough alone. No. "But you couldn't leave him in peace. You with your research and your meddling... you and the green witch between you destroyed his happy ending — his son — and condemned him to months of torture and enslavement. And then had the gall to think the instrument of his control was the thing he loved most!"

Belle swallows, guilt clear on her face. "I... I misunderstood the gauntlet. I know that now. But—"

"But at least Rumplestiltskin is beyond your reach now. _This_ son will live and prosper." Fiona glances at the infant sleeping in the stroller, and is ashamed to think that she was willing to sacrifice him, but she understands now why Rumple had been so angry about it. The shears may have cut him off from his Savior's magic, but it didn't change his essence, even when cloaked in darkness. "I'll make sure of it."

"Wait, what—"

Fiona doesn't wait for Belle to finish her question before transporting herself back to the mansion.

* * *

In her workshop, Fiona dissects the Dark Curse. It is a bloated, unwieldy spell, much altered from the simplicity of her original. And there has been more than one hand in the changes. Her son, of course, is one. But the other — the other is even darker and redolent of hidden intent. She traces its influence to Storybrooke and beyond. Divination on a map reveals a name and a location.

She sends her conjured minions across the town line. They return with a prisoner in tow — a prisoner cuffed with shackles that contain his magic. He is an older man, white, with a receding hairline, dressed in a suit and tie and affecting a gentlemanly manner. But Fiona knows what he is behind the human name he has taken.

She chains him to the wall in the mines under Storybrooke. This chamber, and the tunnels around it, are not on any map. She regards the prisoner in silence, and he meets her eyes with too little fear.

"Now, is this really necessary?" He lifts up his hands as far as the chains permit, punctuating his words with a metallic clink. "There must be some misunderstanding."

"Indeed. And you're here to help me clear it up, Mr. Leland Gaunt. Or should I say, Chernabog?"

"Pardon?"

Fiona conjures her wand into her hand. "You know who I am, dear. And I know you, thief, whatever mask of flesh you wear in this land."

The prisoner raises his eyebrows. "'Thief'? What do you think I stole?"

"You took my curse from the vault of the fairies."

"Tut. _Your_ curse. Not theirs. They were the ones who banished you, were they not? You should be grateful that I liberated your spell from their grubby little paws." The prisoner smirks. "Brilliant work. I must congratulate you."

Fiona scoffs. "So brilliant that you saw fit to vandalize it with your clumsy modifications?"

He takes offense. He sulks. He remains a prisoner.

After a few futile escape attempts, he agrees to tell her what she wants to know, in return for a promise of freedom. Fiona isn't fool enough to release him before she has control of the town line.

She needs to cast the Dark Curse again, now that she has mapped out its new contours. Her son twisted fate into its weave, bent time and space to fit its victims into false lives. He eased their passage into the Land Without Magic by creating a town to house them — a home he hoped to share with his lost son. He wrote in a Savior to break the curse. Easy enough to understand the purpose behind his changes.

The Chernabog had changed the cost.

"The heart of the one you love the most?" The change had made it impossible for her son to cast it. Fiona glares at the demon. "Why?"

"Think about it. What better price for the ultimate curse?"

Fiona has no interest in an 'ultimate' curse. For her, as for her son, the curse was a means to an end. But the Chernabog had a different end in mind. It was said that the Chernabog sought out the heart with the greatest potential for darkness and devoured it. Now she realizes that the truth is not so literal. Potential darkness is like potential energy, like a boulder balanced on the top of a cliff. The Chernabog was the one who pushed the boulder over the edge in order to harvest the power in the fall.

"I've already fallen," Fiona tells him. "I need crush no hearts to cast my curse."

She has written it anew. This time, it will sweep up the remnants of all the previous castings and burn away the residual distortions in the minds of the residents. False memories will recede, leaving only knowledge to live in this realm. Space, time, and fate will return to their natural courses. The transmutation of forest into town will become truth, immune to any dispelling or destruction of the curse. If she writes in a few loopholes for herself, who is there to notice?

But all this still requires sacrifice. Requires a power source.

Fiona begins with the veins of crystal running underneath Storybrooke, the same crystals the dwarves mine for fairy dust. It ends when Zelena finds her — exactly according to plan.

Fiona had made a special point of visiting Zelena in the farmhouse to menace the witch's infant daughter and drop hints about her whereabouts. That, combined with a report from Rumple's widow of Fiona's visit to the pawnshop, is enough to stir up the 'heroes' who rule Storybrooke.

A self-proclaimed wicked witch is hardly a hero, but blood counts for more than deeds, so Zelena is included in their council. The other heroes are not so rash as to confront Fiona, but Zelena (protective, some might say possessive) of her child, fancies herself above their judgement. And thus becomes a perfect tool for Reul Ghorm, who is too cowardly to show her hand directly — a few vague rumors suffice to prompt Zelena to 'steal' half the wand that once banished the Black Fairy. It's a potent weapon in the hands of a witch, hence Zelena's foolhardy solo venture into Fiona's domain.

It takes only a few taunts before Zelena is blasting away at Fiona. Fiona easily deflects the magic into the fairy crystals, turning them black.

"Oh dear, look what you've done." Fiona smirks at the look of horror on Zelena's face. "Your darkness and the darkness in that wand fragment have tainted all the crystals in this mine." She breaks off a piece and tosses it to Zelena.

Zelena catches it instinctively, giving Fiona the opening she needs to magically snatch the wand fragment from the witch's hand.

"I'll take that — for safekeeping. I don't know what Mother Superior was thinking, allowing it to fall into the grasp of someone like you. Someone with a heart in disarray. No more light fairy dust for them, I'm afraid. And it's all your fault."

"You won't get away with this! Wicked always wins."

Fiona chuckles. "We'll see."

She sends Zelena away in a wave of magic, then watches in her crystal ball as the witch opens a stormy portal to Oz, summoning the Crimson Heart. As Fiona has hoped, Zelena's desire to out-do her sister in everything, including heroism, pushes her to feed her magic to the Crimson Heart in order to drain the darkness away from the fairy crystals.

"Quite a sacrifice. I'm almost impressed," Fiona says to herself, shortly before stealing the Crimson Heart. No one in the town has magic as powerful as the Black Fairy's. She has no true need for Zelena's contribution, but after everything the witch did to Rumple, Fiona has vowed to exact revenge, and the magic in the heart serves to power her Dark Curse.

The only real surprise comes when Fiona discovers that her prisoner is missing. Zelena must have freed him before confronting Fiona, and he had elected to flee rather than help her. But no matter. Fiona has full control as she casts her curse anew, and ensures that the Chernabog does no harm to herself or her children.

* * *

The curse creeps in, a gray fog in the dead of night, unannounced by any town crier. It takes with it any memory of itself. Only Zelena and the Chernabog know, having witnessed Fiona's preparations. Zelena no longer has magic, and as for the Chernabog...

The demon is easily found, given Fiona's mastery of the curse-wrought geography. He abides by their previous agreement, making no resistance when she banishes him over the town line. In the brief time he was freed of her bindings, he planted a single seed of chaos. Upon discovering what it is, Fiona chuckles in appreciation. She draws on the threads of fate her son wove into the curse to ensure that the seed bears fruit.

She gives the Chernabog no more thought after that; she has a new prisoner now, one she brought over in re-casting the Dark Curse.

Tiger Lily.

* * *

"I can get my magic back." Zelena rolls the vial between her fingers, sensing the enchantment tingle through her skin. It seems Leland Gaunt left her a thank-you gift: a potion that can transfer magic between blood kin. Then she sets the vial down and picks up the shard of crystal instead. It is pure light, evidence that her sacrifice was not in vain. But if she's one of the good guys now— "No, I can't do that to her."

She's turned over a new leaf, hasn't she? She's proven herself by battling the latest villain and making the kind of sacrifice the heroes swoon over. She'll have the admiration of her sister, and by extension, all the town leaders. Once Zelena tells them about the terrible danger she's saved them from, and the terrible curse they need her help to break, they'll be grateful, so grateful that Regina will have to match Zelena's sacrifice or else admit to being the less heroic sister — which Regina would _never_ do.

It comes as a terrible shock when none of them even believe her about the Dark Curse, much less volunteer to give up Regina's magic for Zelena.

"The town looks exactly the same," says Prince Idiot.

"I didn't feel anything." Snow White is no more perceptive.

Well, Zelena hadn't, either, but that isn't the point. "Regina, you must have sensed the magic."

"I don't remember anything."

"I'm the Savior; I would know if something was wrong," says Emma. "Remember Isaac's alternate world? He couldn't make me forget the truth."

"My memories haven't changed," the pirate says, giving Zelena a pitying look. "Any villain worth her salt would have tried to separate me from Swan, and as you can see..." He grins, wrapping an arm around Emma as the Savior drapes herself over her beloved. "My devilish allure is as strong as ever."

"I'm the Author." Henry waves his storybook around as if it proves anything. "It would show up in these pages if anything happened."

"You must have dreamt it," Snow White concludes in her sickly-sweet way.

Zelena stomps her foot in frustration. "It was not a dream!"

"Calm down, sis. I'm sorry you lost your magic, but really, what did you expect when you hared off by yourself to pick a fight with the Black Fairy?" Regina's tone is infuriatingly reasonable. "Look, we'll talk to her. She may have been a villain once, but we've all been there before. Everything doesn't need to be the goddamn Final Battle, you know."

"You've all been brainwashed, you dolts!"

"Zelena..."

"She came to my house and threatened me, but you lot wouldn't lift a finger to help me, and now look what's happened!"

"Um, wanting to get acquainted with the neighbors isn't exactly a crime," says the Savior. "How exactly did she 'threaten' you?"

"When I didn't leap at the opportunity to be her BFF, she said it would be a shame if we couldn't all get along," snarls Zelena. "Don't look at me like that! It was the way she said it."

"Yeah, well, we can't all be Mr. Rogers."

"Look, Zelena, I know she has a dark reputation and a way of making you want to fireball that smug smile off her face, but she actually completed the pile of forms I shoved at her," says Regina. "If she's plotting some grand evil scheme, why bother with the paperwork? I think we need to give her a chance."

The others nod in approval as Regina spouts the party line.

It's unfair. Regina gets everything. Again. And now Zelena's lost the one advantage she had over her half-sister: her magic. She could take it from Regina, but from the way the others are looking at her, they need only the flimsiest excuse to turn on her again. _Regina_ will get all their sympathy, all their love. Entitled brat.

"Well, I can see where I'm not wanted!" Zelena gets in the last word, then storms off — on foot. How humiliating.

* * *

Fiona sings a lullaby softly as she descends into the mine tunnel where she has Tiger Lily bound to an abandoned mine cart. Her prisoner is awake, staring at her and unable to keep the apprehension from her face. She has no more magic than a human woman, to Fiona's surprise. Well, time enough to find out about that. Time enough for everything.

"You know, I've been keeping this down here, just for you." Fiona opens a leather tool roll. Fairies have more esoteric devices in their arsenal than wands, and Fiona has given these her own refinements. "I'm so happy we get a chance to play."

"Fiona, please." Tiger Lily's voice has not changed in all these years. She speaks as if she is still... still a friend, and that is what breaks Fiona's mask of calm. The tool roll clatters to the floor.

"You were his fairy godmother!" Fiona lunges forward, ripping Tiger Lily's heart from her chest. Her fingers tighten, and the ex-fairy gasps. "You were supposed to protect him. But you abandoned him!"

"No," Tiger Lily wheezes. "No...no, you're wrong... please, you must listen."

At the pain in her prisoner's eyes, Fiona's rage ebbs enough for her to consider the value of truth. While she holds the heart, Tiger Lily cannot lie. "What can you possibly say for yourself?"

"I tried to protect him. But Blue got it into her head that the world needed a Savior, and she consulted an oracle. The oracle showed her the path..."

"Lovely. What does that have to do with my son?"

Tiger Lily's eyes close on a glint of tears. "It was a dark path...and Blue set Rumplestiltskin's feet on it."

"What!?"

"She said it was what he owed to the fates. He was just a child, but Blue ordered me to back off when I wanted to help him. She arranged for him to be given a magic bean... you know how that turned out."

Fiona grinds her teeth. Damn Malcolm. Throwing his own son away in favor of eternal youth and power.

"I...I thought if I went to Malcolm, I could appeal to whatever was left of his love for you, for his child. Convince him to come home. But Blue forbade me. And when I wouldn't let it go, she... she..."

"Speak," Fiona hisses at the heart in her hand.

Tiger Lily swallows, but the words come tumbling out. "She raised the dark wand of banishment. And I knew then... you were not the first fairy Blue sent to that realm. But I made sure you would be the last." She reaches into her vest and pulls out half a wand. She holds it out to Fiona with a trembling hand. "Here. I burned up all the magic I had, breaking the wand and throwing myself into a wish..."

"You went to Neverland." Fiona stares down at the wand fragment. "And have been there all these years."

"Yes. I found Malcolm. But he... he was Peter Pan." Tiger Lily sighs, glancing sadly at Fiona before dropping her gaze again. "He laughed at me and imprisoned me underneath Skull Rock, and without magic, I had no power to escape."

"Malcolm is dead."

"I... I know. That was when I broke free."

"And my son is dead. Did you know that, too?"

"Yes," Tiger Lily whispers. "I'm so sorry, Fiona. I failed him."

"He died preserving the Savior's life. How the fates must be laughing." Fiona's tone turns venomous. "And Reul Ghorm laughs with them, caring nothing for our pain. She has her precious Savior now. It's time she paid the price."

"This is the price." Tiger Lily offers the wand fragment to Fiona again. "Take it. You will understand."

And once Fiona holds both wand fragments, she does understand. Every banishment to the Dark Realm comes at a cost, that cost held in abeyance by the wand — but it can't be delayed forever. Fiona restores Tiger Lily's heart, then unchains her. "Forgive me. It was wrong of me to blame you."

Tiger Lily reaches out to clasp her hands. "You were trapped in that horrible place. You couldn't have known."

If only she had been able to see past the darkness of her exile sooner, thinks Fiona. But by the time her sight was able to penetrate the walls between worlds, centuries had elapsed and memories from the far past faded into the ether, beyond her reach. She sighs, squeezing Tiger Lily's hands in return. "I should have known better than to doubt my friend."

* * *

"I _will_ get my magic back." Zelena takes the stopper out of the vial. She pours half the contents onto her fingers. As for the other half... she contemplates the child gurgling in front of her. "Mummy needs it more than you do, sweet pea. You'll hardly miss it — it's not as if you've made any use of your talents so far. It's different for me — I'm the Wicked Witch! What's a witch without magic? A poor relation to be pitied and thrown a few crumbs? No, thanks."

Zelena tilts the vial over baby Robyn's forehead, but a puff of smoke swallows it up before the first drop leaves the glass.

"Stop!"

"Regina." Zelena glares furiously at her sister, all her limbs suddenly paralyzed. "You've never heard of knocking?"

"I suspected you might try something like this."

"Bully for you. You've caught me," Zelena spits.

And caught she is. Caught, and banished over the town line without her child. A _danger_ to Robyn. As if Zelena would ever hurt her own daughter! But without magic, all the tears in the world are powerless to change Regina's decision. A tipping point has been reached, and so Zelena finds herself dumped in the Land Without Magic with a bus ticket, a single suitcase, and an envelope filled with fake IDs, money, and a phone. Everything except a way back into Storybrooke.

Blind and stupid, all of them. Soon enough, they'll be calling her and begging for help against the Black Fairy and her curse. Soon. Zelena waits for the call.

It never comes.

* * *

The Blue Fairy is gone, and the broken wand has been reduced to a circle of black dust around the last imprint of her feet.

"What have you done!?" The heroes march upon the mansion. Fiona intercepts them on the doorstep.

"Did your nuns not provide you with enough explanation? Surely you know by now that all magic comes with a price, and it was Reul Ghorm's debt to pay." Fiona affects a sorrowful shake of her head. "After banishing so many fairies to the Dark Realm, she was dragged down herself by the dark magic she should have known better than to wield."

Tiger Lily joins Fiona, confirming her words. "Aye, it's true." She finds Tinker Bell among the small mob. "You. You're a fairy. You know we're not lying..."

Tinker Bell looks shaken. "The Dark Realm... I've heard rumors. No one escapes... and no one survives for long."

"I did both... because I never stopped loving my son." Fiona allows herself to smile as she surveys the appalled faces of the heroes. "Who does Reul Ghorm love, I wonder? Hmm?"

None can answer her. Blue loves only her greater good, and that is worth little against the horrors of the Dark Realm.

"There must be some way to save her," insists Emma.

"Ah, there is indeed." Fiona waits for the hope to spark in the Savior's eyes before crushing it. "But not by you. Only by _him_." And now her finger points straight at Captain Hook. "He is the only one who can save the Blue Fairy."

Hook is beyond shocked. "Me? What can I do? I have no magic..."

"No, but you have been touched by magic. Divine magic." Fiona smiles as comprehension dawns on the heroes. "All you need do is ask Zeus to trade your place for Blue's. Your life is god-given, and you bear his mark — he will not ignore your prayer. Perhaps that was why he restored you — to give you a second chance at the hero's death that eluded you before."

"You can't!" Emma bursts out, clinging tightly to her pirate. "You'd be trapped there, with no way out."

"There is one way. Your beloved is mortal, after all."

The heroes turn pale as Fiona's meaning sinks in.

"No!" Emma's refusal is adamant, and her parents reluctantly affirm her choice. Blue may be a benefactor of Snow's family, but she is also ancient enough to bear her own burdens, while Hook is Emma's hope of a happy ending. They've caused their daughter enough suffering in the name of the greater good that this time they are determined to put Emma first. "Killian, you can't go. You have so much more to live for!"

Hook wavers, hems and haws as the others argue around him.

"You know what is needed. The choice is yours." Tiring of the show, Fiona and Tiger Lily leave the heroes to it.

* * *

Hook is glad to be spared. He tells himself it's the best choice, that Emma needs him. It's a shame about Blue, but what's done is done, and they have to think about the future.

And that's all very well, but a smidgen of guilt niggles at his conscience. They think he is a hero worth saving. What if they find out the truth? Finding himself alone in the house he shares with Emma, he pulls out the dreamcatcher that Fiona handed over to him as her end of their deal. He calls up the images and regards them glumly. Should he confess all, and hope for forgiveness?

But why dig up so much old pain? Better to leave the past buried. Forgotten. _Burned_.

Hook collects enough brush to start a small blaze in the fireplace. Just as he holds the dreamcatcher over the flames, the door opens...

...and Emma and her father walk in on the scene.

And he is caught. The Savior not only saves the dreamcatcher from the flames, she brings up its captured memories for all to see. David learns the truth of his father's death. It's all Emma can do to keep him from murdering Hook then and there. And when the memory of Hook handing a young Neal over to Pan's Lost Boys turns up on the dreamcatcher, she nearly murders him herself.

The fire dies in the hearth, and with it Hook's chances of happiness with the Savior. In the end, the only thing he can do to redeem himself is to save Blue.

* * *

"Do you think he has it in him?" Fiona and Tiger Lily sit in comfort in Fiona's private study in the mansion, watching Hook via crystal ball.

Tiger Lily frowns. "That man is no hero. I knew him when he was one of Pan's lackeys."

"People can surprise you."

"Perhaps. If he stays true to form, he'll slink off on the Jolly Roger and never show his face here again," says Tiger Lily.

"On the other hand, if he chooses to save Blue, he'll spend the rest of his miserable life in the Dark Realm."

"Either way, he can't stay in this town." Tiger Lily sounds pleased at the thought.

Fiona nods. "And we're rid of the two worst rotten apples in this barrel. As I told our dear mayor, I am committed to making Storybrooke a healthy and happy environment for my children."

Tiger Lily gives her a look. "...including Rumplestiltskin? But he's dead."

"He's been dead before."

"You're still holding out hope for his return?"

"I'm his mother." Fiona smiles fiercely at her friend. "I will never give up hope. Never."

* * *

 _Many years later..._

Having lost the favor of the gods, Captain Hook sails his ship across the infinite seas, man and ship alike growing more decrepit with every passing year. One night, while sleeping under the stern of the Jolly Roger (beached for repairs), the rotting ship finally collapses, falling on her captain. He dies instantly.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I kidnapped Leland Gaunt from Stephen King's "Needful Things", and borrowed Jason's end from Greek mythology for Hook.


End file.
